


Moments

by dramamelon



Series: 500 [1]
Category: G.I. Joe (IDW Comics), G.I. Joe - All Media Types, The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: AU friendly, Angst, Canon Friendly, Canonical Character Death, Drug Use, Humor, Lima Syndrome, Mild Language, Multi, Slice of Life, Stockholm Syndrome, TC is a goofball, Xeno, stupid robots, various levels of shippiness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-09-20 19:04:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 5,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9507854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dramamelon/pseuds/dramamelon
Summary: A collection of shorts spanning multiple characters and ships, ranging from silly to heartbreaking (or so I'd like to think).(Characters/ships with several+ prompt answers will be separated out into character/ship specific collections.)NEW (July 4, 2017):Chapter 12: Prompt 22 - Ghost (Bumblebee & Starscream)Summary: Bumblebee considers his new existence.Chapter 13: Prompt 25 - Terror (Kaon & the Pet)Summary: Kaon is alone and he doesn't know why.





	1. Prompt 3 - Heartbreak (Chromedome/Prowl)

**Author's Note:**

> How's about a little Prowl angst?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prowl is done with his feels. So done.

He never handled emotions well to begin with. Having his spark raked over the coals by a mech he had completely devoted himself to, had considered proposing the Ritus to, had Prowl in a place he didn’t understand. Tumbler was gone, having left him in the lurch on the very night Prowl intended introducing his partner by all the meanings of the word to his creators. 

“This isn't like you,” he muttered to himself. Prowl glared down on the datapad sitting on the desk in front of him. “You have work to do, so forget about him and do it.”

As much as he tried, though, his thoughts found their way back where he least wanted them. Tumbler and the gaping hole left behind in his absence. The whole of Cybertron was going to ruin in a rush of unrest and infighting and Prowl could focus on nothing beyond his own broken spark.

It had to end, even if it meant closing himself off from feeling anything good and wonderful ever again. The well-being of his planet was infinitely more important. Any lingering bitterness would simply have to be swept aside. He was nothing in comparison to his duty, his people, and the survival of society, whatever changes might be wrought upon them in the growing conflict.

He was nothing.


	2. Prompt 4 - Euphoria (Nuke/Tarn/Duty)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a heady feeling for Tarn.

Sensation swept through Tarn’s frame like an electrical jolt direct and unfiltered from Kaon’s coils. It tingled in a fashion he’d never encountered before in the long length of his functioning. Unbridled strength and power coursed along every circuit. A heady surge pushed at his brain module, urging him to smash all that stood in his way. The universe would be his, if only he reached out to take it, the power whispered to him.

But, no. Tarn knew that wasn’t the way of it, even in this first haze of nucleon infused with chronal energy. The universe belonged to Lord Megatron. Tarn was only the enforcing hand—and he was content with his place. To bend such a magnificent display of overwhelming dominance and might unto further paving his Lord’s path to ultimate greatness was an even more profound euphoria.

The universe would change, would kneel and grovel at the feet of Lord Megatron and his grand design—and with this new power coursing through his frame, Tarn would ensure it happened.


	3. Prompt 8 - Jumbled (Thundercracker & Buster)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thundercracker has learned some fundamentals: 1) writing can be hard and 2) inspiration can come from anywhere.

He could see it all so clearly in his head, from Susan’s introduction in the first scene to the first signs of development of the relationship she was destined to share with Josh somewhere in the middle. There were even inklings of where the story would go in the finale and possibilities for a sequel opener lurking in his processor. The problem was figuring out all the parts that happened in between all those pieces. 

Tucked away deep in a secluded grotto, the profusion of spring in a full riot of color around him, Thundercracker hadn’t input a single word into the datapad in his hands in more than an hour. Looking down at Buster, he huffed out a gusty vent. “No one knows how hard this is, Buster,” he said. “All these ideas get stuck into your head in a total jumble and then you have to figure out how they all go together. You don’t even get all the pieces at once, either!”

Buster woofed agreement and wagged her tail, giving him a look of understanding. She wasn’t a writer, but she’d certainly listened to his triumphs and travails enough to know what he was talking about.

Stroking the tip of a (very) gentle finger over her head, Thundercracker set aside his datapad for the moment. Uncounted years of fallen leaves and other organic materials crunched and shifted under its weight, as the seeker abandoned it to scoop his beloved dog into his hand. He brought her up to his face and grinned like a fool as she made a sloppy wet mess of his cheek with her tiny organic glossa.

“You’re the best, Buster,” he told her, nuzzling her soft belly as she stood on her hind paws to reach higher on his face. Then an idea pinged bright and clear. He gave Buster an intense look. “Josh Boyfriend needs a dog! Thanks, Buster!”

“Woof!”


	4. Prompt 9 - Growl (Misfire & Grimlock)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Misfire and Grimlock are stranded and alone.

_Grrrgrrgllggrrr!_

“Oh, that’s not good,” Misfire announced, pressing his hands over his belly. He glanced over at the Dinobot crouched beside him. “My tank’s growling up a storm. Don’t suppose you got any energon tucked away anywhere, do ya, Grim?”

The big dino just grunted, keeping his gaze turned skyward.

“Yeah, I didn’t think so.” Curling up around his knees, purply-pinkish—he’d never really taken the time to learn what the fancy schmancy technical name of the color was—wings fluttering in agitation, Misfire picked at a flaking bit of black on his hand. “You’d think I’d know better by now, right? Not exactly the first time I’ve gotten stranded when the guys took off on me. For something really dumb, I might add.”

Beside him, Grimlock merely grunted again and continued his surveillance of the stars. Misfire glanced over at him, pondering the strange fact that he’d grown so used to having the strange, animal alt mode around him on an almost constant basis.

“I hear ya, mech,” Misfire replied, shifting to lean against Grimlock’s side. The big ‘bot was warm and cozy, perfect as the planetside night started taking a chilly turn. Another protesting gurgle rose up from his fuel tank, sending him curling tighter around himself again. “Sure hope they come back soon, though. I don’t even have any more of my munchies, let alone anything to actually fuel up on.”

This was going to be a long wait—

“You idiot, what the hell are you and Grimlock doing all the way over here? Crankcase and Spinister are still waiting for us back at the ship.”

Misfire’s optics cycled wide as he spun around to find Krok marching their direction, Fulcrum right behind him. He bounced to his feet and flung himself at the duo, never minding they actively ducked in an attempt to get out of his way. “Guys! You came back!”

“We never left!” Fulcrum squawked as Misfire squeezed him in a tight circle of arms.

“Don’t ever leave me and Grim again!” Misfire continued, paying no attention in his joy at discovering his unit returned for him and Grimlock. “Say, we got any energon? I’m totally starved.”


	5. Prompt 10 - Forgotten (Hound)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hound takes a side trip.

He never managed figuring how long a side trip might take him. With so many worlds passing under his feet, though, it was impossible for Hound to pass up the chance to get off the paving and into the wild. The need was hardcoded into him, he was sure of it. So, side trips happened, however long they took, whether the higher ups liked it or not.

In the middle of another one of those side trips, Hound was soothed into a state of peace that bordered on serenity by the organic wildland all around him. With a careful hand, he gently shifted a tree limb out of his way, dipping down to slip underneath as he worked his way toward the rising burble of a nearby stream.

The rush and play of water drew him onward, his paint blending into the greenery around him as he sought out the source. It wasn’t quite Earth, this planet, but it certainly reminded him of the human homeworld. Lush and vibrant with foliage, it made him think perhaps Earth had looked like this before human industrialization took its toll on the planet.

A final push through the denser plant life that typically lined the banks of such things, Hound smiled on taking in sight of the ribbon of flowing water. The width of it slightly surpassed two spans the breadth of his shoulders, by initial estimate. Catching hold of a thick and low-slung branch that reached well into the matching canopy on the other side, Hound leaned over the water and watched with intent optics for the telltale flash of reflection that would give away a native water creature. It astounded him, the convergence of lifeforms across so many different worlds—a fish was a fish, even in the oceans of Cybertron.

A dart of silver caught his optic from the right. There! The silvery scales of a tiny aquatic creature reflected the light from the sun high above them, gaining his attention. With slow and careful movements, Hound eased into the water and made his way toward the spot with diligent patience. If he moved too fast, he’d scare the fish off and he didn’t want that. He’d forgotten the tickle of the tiny organics swimming around his feet and hoped, maybe, to recapture the sensation.

Then, before he was even ready for it, the first brush tingled against his plating. Hound smiled wide and gazed down on the curious swirl of glittering fish as they showed no fear, playing circles around his ankles. 

This was an excellent side trip.


	6. Prompt 12 - Crave (Ratchet & Drift)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ratchet wants it and he wants it now. (A quick take on the 'a mech misses his favorite candy' trope. :) )

There wasn’t much Ratchet looked for in life, even less he outright couldn’t do without. There was something, though, he needed with his entirety, but it remained completely outside his reach. It certainly wasn’t the sort of thing anyone would expect of him, this spark deep craving for something so… well, so unexpected. (Ratchet was never his most articulate when the need hit him this hard.)

He leaned farther onto the countertop, staring down on the polished over scratches left from the indiscriminate and idle fingertips of mechs since the start of the damn quest, including his own. The one beside his left elbow was actually an argument in pictographs between Sunstreaker and Skids. It was, perhaps, not the best sign in the universe to realize he spent enough time in the murmur and dim of Swerve’s little establishment to recognize the handiwork of mechs other than himself.

A heavy plate scraped across the counter, then, coming to a stop under his face. It probably left a few scratches, too, being square and made of sharp-cornered steel. None of that was important, though, when the contents were taken into account. Piled in a neat, geometric stack that followed the shape of the plate and built into a mound at the middle was a collection of one very particular candy. They were perhaps a little oddly shaped, but otherwise appeared utterly perfect.

He turned his head to offer a customary glare at the delivery mech. “Took you fragging long enough.”

“No problem, Ratchet,” Drift said, sitting next to him at the bar with a grin. “Next time I’ll make sure I take twice as long.”

Ratchet would have considered pinging one of the candies off Drift’s smug face for being such an aft, but waste not, want not. Instead, he popped the candy into his mouth and crunched down into the surprisingly delicate layers of prepared energon.

Crunchy, only vaguely sweet, and dusted with the tartness of zinc, the pure pleasure of it was as sin itself, an indulgence so long gone from his life as to now match the sensuality of the best interface he’d ever had. None of that chewy or gummy nonsense for him. It was unfortunate, though, that no one made it anymore. Or _almost_ no one, anyway, he amended. “You can take as long as you need,” he admitted after the taste and texture melted from his glossa, “as long as you’re making more of them.”

Drift huffed a soft chuckle under his breath and shook his head. He reached to snag a candy for himself, but snatched his fingers back with lightning speed and his optics open wide as they would go from the shock of it when Ratchet swatted at him.

“No touchy,” Ratchet grunted around another candy. “Mine.”


	7. Prompt 13 - Abandonment (Skywarp & Thundercracker)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A repaired Skywarp confronts Thundercracker in the desert, interrupting his vacation time.

“How could you do it? Didn’t it mean anything to you? The three of us? Or even just the two, you and me? We were going to take it all, Thundercracker. You, me, Starscream….” Skywarp sighed, slumping into his distress, turned dismay, turned depression. Even his wings drooped low behind him, no proudly held symbol of an elite Decepticon seeker now. Only just recently repaired and corporeal, Skywarp immediately set out to deal some physical damage to whatever got in his way. His anger was dug far too deep into his cortex to sit around while the fleshbags poked and prodded at him.

So, he’d slipped their leash and streaked off through the blue sky to vent as much of his frustration as he could before they yanked him back under control. Stumbling on his old trinemate taking in the sights like an overgrown, metal-skinned human on some sort of vacation hadn’t been part of the plan. Spotting Thundercracker first fanned the fire to smelting pool intensity and he’d dived out of the blue to tackle the other seeker into a tumble of flailing limbs that sent the few humans around running in fear. Only a few punches in, though, Thundercracker slammed a fist into his face and flipped him onto his back, easily putting him down. The blaze lighting those red optics above Skywarp pulled the plug and drained the fight right out of him and into the heap of sand they’d landed in.

As if that were the only cue he needed, Thundercracker vented a hard sigh and settled down beside him, unworried about the granules of sand tickling their way through his seams. He’d waited for Skywarp to right himself and find words.

“I don’t know about Starscream,” Thundercracker replied, digging the toes of his feet into the sand—he’d obviously spent way too much time around humans if that was an okay thing to do. “He’s doing his own thing, probably not giving a shit about either one of us in the slightest. He’s kind of a big deal now, you know.”

“And you?” Skywarp focused on his hands, rubbing a thumb over a series of scratches along his right palm. Probably from the tussle with Thundercracker, claws gouging all the way down to the metal, rather than sand abrasion. “I already wrote you off, TC. I haven’t changed my mind about that, but I’m giving you a chance to explain yourself better than I did before.” No way in hell was he about to mention how much he regretted it, how fragging lonely he was now, even for the company of a traitor like the one beside him. Someone that wasn’t just going to use him.

When Thundercracker’s field reached out and curled around him, cautious but warm, Skywarp reciprocated with a speed that threatened whiplash. Tangled together, Skywarp burrowed his field deeper into Thundercracker’s than he’d ever dared before, turning into arms he didn’t even realize were opened to him until he was held firm in their embrace. He curled against Thundercracker, fingers locking around the edges of blue plating as if to never let him get away again.

“Hey, Thundercracker? Do I need to call for help?” asked a voice from outside the comfort of Thundercracker’s arms. Human. Female. Probably his trinemate’s pet, Skywarp considered without giving up his place.

Thundercracker’s voice rumbled against him as he answered the woman. “No, it’s all right, Marissa. Can you watch Buster for a bit? I think this is kind of important.”

“No worries. If, uh, something changes, let me know.” Skywarp felt Thundercracker nod in response and settled closer against the familiar plating as the human—Marissa, apparently—scuffed through the desert sand, corralling a smaller Earth creature. “Come on, girl. Daddy’s busy.”

“Woof!”


	8. Prompt 16 - Spirit (Starscream)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starscream isn't really seeing Bumblebee. He'd tell you that if you ask him.

_Just pretend he’s not there... because he’s_ not.

That was the advice Starscream gave himself when the little yellow Autobot continued to show up at the most inconvenient times. Usually when Starscream managed some time alone to gloat over his achievements. At the start, anyway.

It wasn’t terribly long, however, until Bumblebee began finding his way into showing his nauseatingly perky face in the presence of others. None of them ever mentioned a word regarding the minibot and no word ever surfaced in the rumor mill about him, either. Again, more proof that Bumblebee was _not_ as opposed to _was_.

Perhaps what made the whole situation the worst it could be was the fact that Starscream found himself chatting with the not there Bumblebee. The frequency of him being caught at it by the likes of the conniving Rattrap or the misbehaving cityspeaker Windblade or even others seemed to grow daily. He couldn’t deny speaking with the figment of his imagination lead him through thought processes faster than contemplating on his own did, though. Perhaps Bumblebee wasn’t usually impressed with his decisions, but what did it say about the little delusion that he kept coming back?

The longer Bumblebee stayed around, the freer Starscream became in his words. Sometimes, he grew quite animated in his conversations with the glitch that presented him this vision of the dead Autobot—because that’s what he was, the end product of a glitch somewhere deep in his coding. Otherwise he was talking to a ghost, a spirit, and everyone knew those didn’t exist. Unless one was a handwaving, religious nutcase like Deadlock—“So sorry, Bumblebee, I _did_ mean to say _Drift_. No, no, I didn’t mean to be rude. Of course, not.”—had become.

What Starscream hadn’t counted on were the times when he needed Bumblebee’s council and the mech had the gall to not show.


	9. Prompt 17 - Destined (Skywarp/Rock 'n Roll)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skywarp's got skills beyond teleporting. Flirting is one of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you know Skywarp is currently in the G.I. Joe comics? I didn't until an anon requested this pairing when I put up five prompts on offer over on tumblr. :D
> 
> Info for those that don't know: Rock 'n Roll (real name: Craig S. McConnel) is kind of a greasy rocker guy, a machine gunner by trade. He basically rescued Skywarp during the Revolution event, taking him back to the Joes with him. There's not a whole lot of characterization for him in canon yet, so I've definitely taken liberties.
> 
> Also, G.I. Joe (what's left of them) now uses the Nemesis for an underwater HQ, too.

If there was one thing Skywarp believed in, it was destiny. Of course, that was believed, past tense. He wasn’t so sure anymore. The Decepticons, lead by Megatron at his finest, were supposed to have won the war, stomped the Autobots beneath their heels, and then made Cybertron over into the utopia promised to everyone. Not only had that not happened, but Megatron had gone and joined the fragging Autobots after the war basically fizzled with no real winner. He’d heard rumors that Decepticons were definitely being oppressed again back home, though.

He sighed and peered out one of the many viewports of the Nemesis, watching the deep sea squishies swim by like there wasn’t a sentient alien robot snooping on their daily lives. Ever since throwing his sorry lot in with the humans, Skywarp found himself cooped up in one stinking fleshbag military-style base after another. This one, at least, he was familiar with, despite the massive reformatting efforts that made the ways of the ship a bit more difficult for him to navigate.

His life wasn’t perfect, by any means. From being mortally wounded and used for his power by his own people to a disabled glitch mouse for what the humans laughably called technological research and development, Skywarp often wondered if deactivation might not have been the better choice.

And then… then _he_ showed up. The slagging human slug with the greasy flop of fur on his head that had overgrown to the point of taking over his stupid face. Not to mention the fashion sense of a Junkion. Of course, this rescue resulted in his further usage as a lab mechanimal for more Cybertronian-inspired weapons and other tech. Primus, he hated organics. At least among the Joes he was allowed some sort of freedom to his movement, leashed though it ultimately was.

A shuffle of movement came from the open doorway, ruining what little bit of a not bad mood he’d managed to attain. Turning a glare on the meatbag that dared to interrupt his ruminating, Skywarp barked, “What? Can’t a guy get any privacy?”

Rock ‘n Roll looked like he wanted nothing more than to turn tail and go right back out into the hall, but he stood his ground. Were he less annoyed, Skywarp thought he might have been impressed. “Uh, look, Transform—”

“Ugh,” Skywarp grunted, breaking in before he could finish the word. “Come on, squishy. It’s not that fragging hard. Cybertronian if you don’t want to use my damn name, which is Skywarp if you’re feeling brave. None of that Primus damned ‘transformer’ slag, all right?”

“Okay,” the Joe said, running a hand through his lank blond hair. The light caught on the dark patterns drawn on his light skin as his arm moved with the gesture. “Skywarp, then, but only if you don’t call me squishy because it’s kinda disturbing.”

“Whatever,” Skywarp said, watching as Rock ‘n Roll made his way closer. The human finally snatched one of the tiny chairs scattered around and sat on it backward nearby, turned to stare out the viewport like Skywarp himself. “So, Rock—”

“How about Craig?” the human cut him off, shrugging a little as he made the suggestion. “When we’re not out in the field or doing something work related. I got more than enough people using the codename nowadays.”

“Oh.” Skywarp frowned for a moment, considering the name. It was certainly not anything even remotely Cybertronian, very alien sounding. He didn’t know if he liked it. Unlike the codename, which could easily be the English translation of some random bot. Pit, the Autobots had a guy named Jazz, didn’t they? “What if I like the codename better?”

The human visibly drooped. Was he disappointed? Why would he be disappointed? “Fine, the codename’s better than squishy, at least,” Rock ‘n Roll agreed with a sigh. A wry smirk tugged at one corner of his mouth as he looked Skywarp’s way. “So… you come here often?”

Skywarp went still, optics shuttering a few times as he debated how to take that. Finally, he snorted and shook his head. “You trying to pick me up, Rock? I haven’t heard a line that bad in fragging vorns.”

“Something tells me that’s a really long time,” Rock ‘n Roll replied, grinning as the back and forth perked him back up.

“Longer than you know.” Feeling a bit more at ease himself, Skywarp slumped forward, resting his chin on his knees and wrapping his arms around his shins. “By the way, that’s some pretty cool detailing you’ve got on your arms. Just so you know.”

“Detailing?” Rock ‘n Roll asked in confusion, looking this way and that at his arms. The flesh of the limbs was left bare by the top covering he wore, revealing the black lines that decorated him. Some looked a little faded when Skywarp gave them a better look, probably the result of time and being a meatbag, but the compliment was well-received anyway. “Oh, you mean the tats! Uh, thanks, man. They’re kinda special to me. Took a whole lot of time, pain, and money.”

“Mech.”

“Huh?” The confusion was back on Rock ‘n Roll’s face.

“I’m not a man, I’m a mech,” Skywarp explained.

“Sounds like the same kind of thing, though,” Rock ‘n Roll said, giving him a searching look. The grin that overtook his face this time was decidedly salacious. “I take it that means there’s girl robots, too?”

Taking a moment to run the comment through his slowly growing lexicon of human eccentricities, Skywarp snorted a laugh and shook his helm. His wings fluttered in the moment of humor. “Yeah, I guess there are some that like to be called she. Most of us all have the same parts, though, whatever way.”

Rock ‘n Roll didn’t react for a few spark pulses, then his eyes flew open wide and he gaped at Skywarp. “The _same_ parts? Are you,” he sputtered, hands squeezing the back of the chair in a tighter grip as if fighting off embarrassment, “are you telling me you’ve got, uh, indoor _and_ outdoor plumbing? That alien robots actually _have_ plumbing?”

Another pause as he considered this against his lexicon, Skywarp snickered and leaned closer to the man. “Some of us have nothing at all and do it with fields and sparks, instead.” He leaned closer still, sensors picking up the rising heat of Rock ‘n Roll’s body—especially his face. Letting his smile go flirtatious, his optics half-shuttered, Skywarp’s wings stretched back behind him as he purred. “I, myself, happen to have both… and I like using them.”

The sensors Skywarp was keeping on Rock ‘n Roll read a sudden spike in temperature again. This one turned his face a shade of red so intense Skywarp might have worried the lifeblood inside him was going to come shooting out the orifices on his head, if he actually cared for anyone beyond himself.

“Oh,” Rock ‘n Roll finally said, finding his voice, though it sounded like it could use a recalibration. “Can you do the… other stuff, too?”

“I can do it all,” Skywarp told him, a proud cant to his wings. With one fingertip, he carefully nudged Rock ‘n Roll’s furry chin upward. “Why are you asking? You got a thing for robots? Is the squishy gunner starting to get off on the thought of doing a mechanical? Huh, Rock?”

Rock ‘n Roll gulped audibly, his jaw working without sound. Oh, yeah, Skywarp preened. He _still_ had it.


	10. Prompt 19 - Dying (Dominus Ambus)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As he lays dying on the medical slab, Dominus comes back to himself even without Chromedome's help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have so many Dominus feels when it comes to his time spent as the Pet.

The mnemosurgeon didn’t need to finish his work. Dominus remembered all on his own with the fading flickers of his spark. His glitching audial receptors poured the sweet voice of his dearest Rewind over him in these last moments of life. Oh, how very much he’d missed those personal inflections to the spoken glyph. That they weren’t for him, but another, and decried his preference that this other—the mnemosurgeon?—should live over Dominus meant nothing. It was enough that he was remembered at all.

A brief exploration of his frame revealed his mode locked, not that he expected different. The DJD were nothing if not thorough. It didn’t matter. He didn’t have the sort of time left to focus any energy on transforming to reassure Rewind. His limbs twitched as the failing power relays spasmed with the stuttering of the electrical pulses through his systems.

The medical slab was warm beneath him. A small kindness offered by the Autobots to what they’d no doubt thought nothing more than a rabid beast. It brought to mind memories of a similar warm berth he’d curled up on to recharge for what seemed so long now. Kaon had not been entirely cruel. In fact, the mech had proven unexpectedly loving over the passage of vorns—perhaps a trait that made him all the more fearsome, though none but Dominus might know it.

Something tugged at the back of his processor with the thoughts of Kaon. It was enough to draw him away from observance of the outside world, turning inward. What was it?

Oh, no. Oh, dear.

His master, his poor Kaon.

If no one saw the deactivation of his tired and broken frame, Dominus held not a care. He certainly didn’t need it anymore. Leaving the physical shape behind as he slipped to the floor, Dominus loped with fluid ease from the medibay and the fortress itself, unbound by the restriction of solid forms such as walls. His destination was home, the Peaceful Tyranny.

Master needed him.


	11. Prompt 20 - Born (Skywarp)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skywarp is tired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another prompts offered up on tumblr. This one was claimed by BalloonArcade with the suggestion of Skywarp! :D

People were born to do things.

Great things, bad things, big things, little things, average things. All sorts of things, but still things, no matter how a mech looked at it. Skywarp often thought he was one of those born to do great things. Magnificent things, even. Why would Primus bless him with an ability like his if not to do a great, possibly grand, thing? Teleporting was not something the everyday bot on the street or in the sky could do.

What he’d not ever considered was that his thing would end up being used as the central power source—a fragging battery—of a personal teleportation device for a crazy mech intent on universal conquest. And not the good kind, like Megatron’s had been.

He hung from restraints, although Galvatron referred to them as a medical device that kept what remained of him in the corporeal world cohesive, in some room of Galvatron’s ship, the Nemesis—Skywarp couldn't decide what room it actually was. The whole thing had started as a revival of the Decepticons, or so Galvatron claimed, but Skywarp refused to call Galvatron a Decepticon, anymore. His ideals were not the ideals Skywarp had fought for, not what still moved him to action. Even Soundwave was pulling away from the scrap Galvatron was dragging out of his aft.

Skywarp heaved out a heavy ventilation, knowing it didn’t actually help anything. In his current state, not much of anything mattered in the physical sense, not being even halfway solid. And he was so tired. So tired it hurt. Recharge had never sounded so good in his life. Like everything else, though, it didn’t do a thing for him. He’d tried more than once, just to make sure.

All he wanted now out of life was to be fixed. Whole. And not tired. If he was born to be a battery, so be it. It was either time to die or retire because he was so fragging _done_ with every last bit of it. Death or retirement. He'd either not care about being repaired or find someone that would actually do it. He'd even give up being a Decepticon, like Thundercracker, if it helped things along.

Frag being born.


	12. Prompt 22 - Ghost (Bumblebee & Starscream)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bumblebee considers his new existence.

He wasn’t entirely sure why he had feelings and thoughts and wishes of his own if he was nothing more than a figment of Starscream’s imagination. Did figments normally have what amounted to a life of their own? Bumblebee couldn’t help but wonder, given his own circumstances. Having never met another figment, of his own while alive or anyone else’s, the little yellow mech was at a bit of a loss. He was pretty certain, though, that he shouldn’t be able to wander around all on his own without Starscream at least in viewing distance.

Having lost track of where he was, Bumblebee sat himself on a bench and watched the living bots of Iacon pass by. It had been a long time since Cybertron had seen such simple activities, bearing no hidden agenda beyond what they seemed on the surface. Did Starscream know this? Did he understand that people were just living their lives again on their home? That Cybertron, despite it all, had risen again? A ghost of the past, no longer, unlike himself?

Bumblebee snorted at himself. “Yeah, that’s it, Bee,” he said. “Make jokes about yourself.”

“Where the _frag_ have you been, Bumblebee?”

He looked up at the angry screech of a voice and sighed before putting on a smile. “What’s the matter, Starscream? Did you miss me?”

Starscream’s field flickered and pulsed with all the obnoxious anger his red paint implied. He set imperious fists on his hips, wings stretched and high in a display of dominance. His optics, though, flashed with something closer to nervous agreement. “I miss no one, Bumblebee,” he declared, dismissing the looks the passing populace sent their direction. Not that they saw anyone other than the Seeker, Bumblebee admitted silently. “Least of all an annoying minibot like you.”

“Right,” Bumblebee replied, his smile a bit more real this time. He rose from his spot on the bench. He’d pondered the strangeness of his existence long enough, he supposed. Making a vague wave toward the tall, official buildings of the central city, he said, “So, let’s go take care of whatever it is you want me to fix this time.”

Starscream sneered, but didn’t correct him.


	13. Prompt 25 - Terror (Kaon & the Pet)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kaon is alone and he doesn't know why.

Kaon stood in a silent and sudden sensor haze, unable to perceive his surroundings through any of his senses. Not even the familiar fields of his teammates resonated where they should, where he knew they had been only moments ago. Instead, he was fairly certain he felt nothing more than empty space from every direction. He frowned his confusion and considered. Something had happened, obviously.

It was difficult, fighting the fog that lay over his mind, but Kaon persisted. Tarn appreciated this quality in him. Most of the time, anyway.

Tarn? Yes. _Tarn_. The name sparked the first bit of memory he sought.

Kaon returned to the ship fast as he could manage, he remembered. Through the halls, he’d run, seeking Tarn, finding him on the bridge with the others. The others? No, not all of them. Only Nickel, really. Deathsaurus and Overlord were there, as well, both alive and no longer on the List, but neither counted as teammates. Helex, Tess, and Vos were all elsewhere, hadn’t left their posts. Unlike himself.

Why had he left his post? The fog swirled in tighter around him, obscuring his thoughts again as he fought to pull them into the open.

Then, a loping gait charged his way from somewhere in the emptiness around him. His spark flickered in his chassis. What? Claws played a staccato _tick tick tick_ across the ground as the beast slowed and circled around him, spiraling closer with each pass. And then it brushed against him, one ragged audial protrusion scraping across his knee as it coiled around his legs. It’s field pulsed comfort and relief and… sadness?

“Pet?” His voice rang out oddly in the air, hollow and unreal. A soft woof answered and Kaon dropped to his knees, reaching out with both arms to draw the turbofox to him. The warmth of another frame against his only then made him realize how chilled his own had become. “Pet, where have you been?”

His grip around the Pet tightened as memory returned with a punch that rocked his internals. The Pet. Autobots. Desperate urgency. Leaving his post. Overlord.

Tarn.

Hard shudders ripped through Kaon’s frame, the Pet whimpering at the sudden fierceness of his hold. A broken sob of despair crackled from his vocalizer. “No,” he whispered his denial. “No, no, no.”

The slobbering glossa that swiped across his face jolted him out of his downward plunge before it could go any further, though. He loosened his grip and leaned back, gently stroking his hand along one side of the long snout. His fingers were greeted by wet and curling licks, fingertips gnawed on with all the care of a shared grooming.

“Oh, Pet,” Kaon murmured, allowing the grooming for the show of comfort it was as fear bit deep into his spark. “If you’re here, as well, I do hope you were more gently treated than I.”

That beloved snout pushed into his face and snuffled around, assuring him that it was done, there was no need for such terror. Movement and sound accompanied a transformation sequence and Kaon folded into him, the tension draining from his limbs as relief burst from him in a wave of uncontrollable emotion. Into the soothing hold of a mech he’d not seen in his bipedal form in vorns, Kaon wept as a voice he'd not realized he missed filled his audials.

“All will be well now, Master.”


End file.
